


Vanilla

by PinkGluestick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Also Connor and Hank are pretty communicative in this, CONNOR IS DROWNING IN HIS HORNY, CONNOR IS IN A CONSTANT STATE OF ‘DO ME’, CONNOR WANTS HANK TO BREAK HIS BACK IN, Hank is concerned, KINKS AND NEEDS DESTROYING CONNORS WORK ETHIC AND HOME LIFE, Kinky Kinks, Kinky sex, M/M, Smutty, They make the effort to respect each other always, Trans Connor, Trans!Connor, about everything, k i n k y, kinky language, trashy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 23:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGluestick/pseuds/PinkGluestick
Summary: **** BE CAREFUL READING ****Connor is surprised to find he has a tiny obsession of sorts- only he’s left horrified by the discovery, and burning with need as indulging it is completely out of the question.So long as he doesn’t find out, Hank’s still here to happily rail him out of business.Connor just has to keep that mess bottled up.—————————————————————-Your standard ‘Connor has a kink that’s been done a million times already fic’. Complete with: Way too many feelings, way to much talking, way too much angst. And also terrifyingly dirty sex.Hank takes the whole thing like a pro.





	Vanilla

**Author's Note:**

> Stupid times ahead. 
> 
> This did *not* get the brain power it deserves

Hank and Connor had a good thing going. They shared a house, they shared a bed, a dog, a commute, their work. They did everything together, more or less, because Hank was an ill-motivated house hermit who hadn’t had anyone to invest himself in, in years. Subsequently, Connor was this fresh, clean slate who got his fill of ‘experiencing life’ through just about everything Hank did. So hey, no effort on Hank’s part, *and* he kept his new boyfriend entertained. 

 

If you asked Connor, this idea that he needed to be constantly stimulated was not what kept him interested in their relationship. It was one sided on Hank’s part because of some weird insecurity he had in their romance. If Connor went off to college or one day decided to learn everything from the tv, he wouldn’t suddenly lose his interest in his human. He had a near infinite amount of information im his computer brain at all times, he’d like to remind Hank, but the knowledge Hank meant was very different from all the technical stuff. It was about being human- finding yourself. Knowing yourself in the metaphysical way Connor’s organic counterpart did.

He’d still be entirely fulfilled in his love life if Connor without Hank’s striving to enliven him. For some reason, though, he just didn't buy it that this robot with an 80 Gajillion infini-byte brain was happy if Hank was not providing the mental stimuli.

But, Connor digressed.

He was happy, bordering euphoric. He didn’t know at first if that was the right term until he’d gotten a better grasp of what being happy was. Now that he had, Connor knew without a doubt he was experiencing bliss. ‘Domestic bliss’.

He wasn’t made for that, of course, so it took some getting used to. He wondered for a while if he was wasting all his energy towards something that might have such little productive value to someone of his character. He wondered if someone like him should be more concerned about career fulfillment or reputation.

Not once, in all his pondering, though, did he ever consider whether he and Hank should be together. He *knew* they did, and that was what sealed it for him. He didn’t think about it again after that, and the term ‘euphoric’ suddenly slipped into place. He was enrapt, satisfied, accomplished.

Deviancy became very simple to him in that moment. It was so basic and human and menial in the grand scheme of things- to simply want to be happy. But, it was shockingly all that seemed to matter. All anyone did for any reason was to find happiness- or attempt to. That was just life. Everything done ultimately for self-fulfillment. 

For Connor, being wealthy or recognized wouldn’t provide that for him.

Receiving quick pecks on the cheek and warm fingers skimming his knuckles was his happiness. Being held close and patted on the hip was being fulfilled. Being dicked into a large comforter with his hands in his lover’s hair was euphoria, and waking up to the tussled, grumpy man who’d done it to him was bliss.

 

Being chastised constantly to take some alone time was....quite frustrating. Hank’s ever present concern that Connor would grow bored with him and become bitter was....disappointing. 

 

And confusing.

Connor regularly insisted that he did *not* need Hank to entertain him, to keep him sated. He didn’t need to go off and find something ‘better’ than his already perfect life.

And it was messing up their rhythm.

Connor was grabbing at his dick on the sofa one night when he’d brought it up again, like they were just having dinner. 

Connor didn’t know how he was able to think at the time when he personally could focus on little else than getting his mouth on Hank’s throat. It was exhausting, which was pretty impressive. If Hank was really trying to stimulate him, running an android designed to have endless resources for speech patterns mentally ragged should have been enough for him. Connor had to literally scrounge for words in his electronic library on hands and knees to shut Hank up.

 

The proper response alluded him as every sensible answer he’d ever given Hank had failed to resolve the problem. He was so set on this idea that Connor was unhappy some how. 

That’s when Connor finally came to a very unsettling realization.

“Hank...”

“Yeah?”

“...Are *you* unhappy?”

 

“What?” He’d hears him perfectly, but Hank was still blind sided.

 

“No. I’m the best I’ve been in years.”

“But are you *happy*?”

“*YES*, Connor. Why would you even ask that?”

 

Connor turned back to the tv. He didn’t want to press the matter until he could determine whether Hank was lying to himself or lying to Connor. 

He could read his vitals...he knew he wasn’t being honest, and that only left one or the other.

“Con.” Hank nudged him with his knee.  
“Hey, Connor, c’mon. Tell me what’s going on.”

“‘S nothing, Lieutenant.”

“Sure doesn’t look that way. Are you frowning? Alright, you’re definitely upset.” Hank clicked off on the remote and shifted to face him on the couch.

“Out with it.” Hank sounded tired, as if he wasn’t the broken wagon wheel that was putting the constant bump and jerk in their stride. 

 

The android thought it was better to throw out a perfectly believable lie and destroy any further suspicion than rile him up.

“I was just thinking about your response to my cooking.”

 

Hank looked like he wanted to say something as he sat there squinting at him, but he just stared instead.

“I don’t think you’re fond of it.” That wasn’t a total lie, actually. Hank did gag over his pasta that one time.

“No you weren’t.”

Connor twitched.

“You weren’t Connor.” Hank said once their eyes locked. 

“Tell me what you’re really thinkin’....I’m listening.” He tacked on the last part to try and sound convincing. He knew he was terrible at expressing himself, and Connor had an advantage here by often saying whatever thing was on his mind- due to the practicality in his programming. There was never any reason for him to keep things bottled up since he lacked many common hang ups humans had. 

“I don’t understand why you let things get between us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Some of these ideas of yours.” 

“Ideas?” Hank felt a little chill in his gut at the mention of anything ‘getting between them’. He didn’t know anything had been.

“You....you keep insisting I can’t be happy.”

Hank groaned, knowing immediately where this was going. Last night was a particularly bad fight over the matter. Connor had ended up yelling at him, really yelling, for the first time in their professional and romantic relationship. Hank ended it when he got the feeling one of them was getting awfully close to punching a wall. He said he didn’t want to talk about it again until Connor was ready to consider him seriously.

“You mention it almost every other day, but I’m not allowed to say it once?” Connor deadpanned.

 

“Connor, it’s different when I do it, because I do it out of concern. You do it to tell me I’m crazy.”

“Again, this is the first time I’ve ever mentioned it.” It was like pouting had been specifically designed for his model type.

“But you’ve had the same stance for every fight, so I’d be right to assume.” Hank said it more robotically than was probably politically correct now.

Connor didn’t look offended by that *tone*, but he was offended by that face.

“You’re missing the point, Lieutenant. I think you’re unhappy and that’s why you’ve been forcing this issue. I’ve never given you a reason to think I am.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t know any better...” Hank mumbled, pulling his arm off the couch and scratching the back of his neck.

Connor still heard him and understood the implications perfectly.

“I know who I am, Hank.”

“Do you?” Hank reared back at the way he’d said his name. This was obviously leading them in to another fight.

“‘Cause just last week you said you wanted to be a lawyer. Then you decided all at once that was a bad idea.”

“Lots of people change their thoughts about a profession, Hank. I was just entertaining the idea. That’s normal.”

“But why did you change your mind, huh?”

“I don’t think I can agree with becoming a public defender.”

“You sure it wasn’t because you don’t know enough about it? I think it was more likely you went ‘oh, wow! All the years of schooling! And what an asshole I’d turn into.’”

Connor shut his mouth as he was about to argue the idea all lawyers were liars. That would be a distraction, and he was set on making the only point that mattered here.

“You don’t think I’m getting all the facts... because I’m not doing my research... because of *YOU*.” 

And finally, the truth was out.

The pinpoint of what he’d been wanting to say for weeks now, yet neither of them would.

Hank stared, not confirming or denying. Which meant he was confirming.

“Hank...” Connor started, having been down this road with the same opening line for the 43rd time, now. Yes, he was keeping track.

 

“I’m not confined here. You’ve made it painfully clear that I have free will and can do as I please, so- LET me do as I please.”

“I think you’d do as I’ve been saying and get out there, Con, if you had more sense to know to. I’ve brianwaished you somehow into thinking sitting around watching tv and sleeping all day is normal. Yeah, lots of people do it, but it’s not healthy.”

“I am aware that low activity results in depression. But, I wouldn’t be anymore inclined to agree with you for my value of stimulation whether or not I was.”

“Is that the lesson I’m supposed to let you live with? That it’s ok to be unproductive?”

“I don’t think I’m being unproductive.”

“You do everything I do, practically. I mean you do keep the house clean, but where’s the fun in that?”

Connor sighed through his nose. His indication for being ‘super done with this’.

“Completing small tasks like cleaning are actually very self satisfying.” He mumbled. He didn’t expect for Hank to learn from it, though.

Regardless, Hank knew what he meant. 

 

He felt like a jerk for pressing when Connor’s reactions were clearly genuine. The problem was, he could no more let Connor with all his wide-eyed wonder whittle away his life monitoring Hank’s drinking habits and sitting about than he could have allowed Cole. He’d be just as upset if Cole had grown into the man Hank was now. Fresh new thing needed to live first before settling down to die.

Was Hank being dramatic? Connor thought so.

“I’m a grown man Hank. You can trust me to make my own decisions.”

“I don’t think you fully know how to when this is all you’ve known.” Hank made a vague gesture at himself and Sumo. Connor didn’t know what his precious fur baby had to do with this.

He wanted to say how ‘incapable’ that made him sound for being an Android and uncannily not quite ‘human enough’. But he wasn’t petty like that, and he knew Hank was only worried for him. Connor was the only person he had anymore, after all, and Hank was trying to be selfless enough to see all that go just for him to prosper.

The only thing about that, was Connor was perfectly capable of flourishing while Hank was there. He’d been doing so for his entire deviant life.

Connor wouldn’t be half as good a man if Hank wasn’t here. He was the first one to show him such empathy and humanity, despite the 568 humans inhabiting his time at the Cyberlife Tower. No one could compare, and if you asked Connor, no one ever could.

Still, it was clear he wasn’t going to change his mind on this, despite Hank being the more flexible of the two. Feeling lost, Connor decided to give in to meet an end on the matter.

“What do you want from me?”

Hank suddenly felt like an even bigger jerk-off now. The words were entirely without heart, and Connor’s eyes had grown very tired. He was just saying whatever to please him now, which Hank knew. On the other hand, this was his chance to make an impression. Even if it was a bit harsh to push, if Connor would listen, he could still benefit.

That’s what Hank believed.

He wet his lips. Hank wanted this to sound as diplomatic as possible, considering that was Connor’s favorite approach.

“I want you to start reaching out. I want you to start...figuring things out on your own.” It was harder to explain than that, and Hank struggled to find the words.

“Things like, what you want. What kind of people you want to keep in your life, besides an old man and his dog. Try to find your *own* interests, Connor- make up your own mind.” Not that he didn’t already, but Hank knew how much him existing around Connor was a giant influencer over what the other did. He’d learned everything from the grisseled old cop.

“If you can just try to be your own man without using me like a map key, or something, that’s the most I could ask of you. Just....just figure yourself out for when I’m....uh..”

He didn’t finish that.

 

Connor was glad he didn’t as the mere implications were enough to make this that much more bitter. Hank realized if he ever wanted to see his precious results, he better avoid almost likening the two. 

Connor’s soul searching could end up being a whole slew of negative connotations, and trying carefully to avoid the harder answers along the way.

 

“Alright, Hank.” He murmured to the older man’s surprise.

He was agreeing?

It’d only taken 2 damn months...

“I’ll start trying to ‘figure things out for myself’.” Hank was angry he’d taught him how to sarcastically use air quotes.

“Are you happy now?”

“Con...” Hank wrapped his arm around the other and pulled him close.

“I was never unhappy. Alright?”

Connor didn’t say anything, clearly disagreeing.

Hank didn’t push it, though.

 

He’d promised Hank he’d try to ‘find himself’, and Hank was not going to press their luck as a somewhat new couple still.

If this ended up changing things between them, then Hank could at least be happy knowing Connor was finally living the way he deserved.

 

Evidently, it *did* change things, and Hank was do incredibly unprepared when it all came crashing down.

 

He thought Connor was just pouting at first, though he often strived not to do that. It was a strange habit he’d been trying to break as Hank often thought it was ‘too cute’ to take him seriously at times.

Then he thought he was just imaging the whole thing since Connor was still very adamant they be intimate during the process. He shouldn’t have assumed their relationship would be put on hold, but he had kind of figured their bedroom life would be stagnant for a while. He knew how stupid that was now, considering the fresh, new thing he was shacking up with was not going to sacrafice that so easily. 

Sex was fun and it felt good, go figure- Hank only worried if this was some indirect way of taking advantage of him.

He got to sleep with him while Connor was still in a kind of dysphoric state. He picked up on this pretty quickly after Hank tried to get all philosophical on him while Connor was sucking his dick. He put his doubts to rest, the fun way, and they fell back into their rhythm.

They still shared a bed, a house, a dog, a commute, a workplace. 

Nothing changed for a while- and then literally *everything* did.

Connor became distant, sort of. He avoided conversation at times. Avoided direct eye contact, which he’d never struggled with before. Hank often caught him stuck in this trance, light circling yellow, and standing with his eyes closed. That wouldn’t be the weirdest thing- Hank had grown used to it when he had to make reports to Cyberlife at one time. But it was becoming increasingly more frequent, until it was at the weirdest freaking times.

They’d be in bed kissing each other goodnight, when all of a sudden, Connor would become stark still- frozen against Hank’s mouth. He pulled away and found Connor’s eyes shut amd nonother indication he was even in there. Eventually, Hank had to shake him out of it, as it was not common, at least for Connor, to stall out like that. Not for 10 minutes. 

 

He did it at the precinct far more often than Hank was comfortable with explaining to Jeffrey. 

They ripped a confession from a perp, and thank GOD it didn’t happen before that, as the moment they were back outside the interrogation room, Connor was doing it. Standing tall and statuesque, eyes closed, with the file of evidence in his hand turned up like he was about to give it to someone. He looked to be in stasis, only that was definitely not what this was. 

It was eerie in a way, and Chris was actually kind of worried he’d just shut down on them.

That didn’t help Hank’s anxiety. Was Connor’s recovery mode failing to keep updates? Was the wiring to his major motor skills facing internal damage?

Hank didn’t get the chance to ask him, as the Android began to hole himself up for a couple hours the moment they were home. When he returned, Hank was just eager to spend time with him again.

It got weirder from there, as most things Connor usually do.

He started doing it on their lunch breaks. Their *entire* hour long lunch breaks in public. 

He wasn’t even slightly abashed about it, standing at a chicken feed table, arms folded, and virtually cut off from the world outside. If Hank wasn’t there, someone could bust him up or throw him in a trunk. It wa worth mentioning that Connor was rarely off his guard for the fact he was the worrying sort. He was more cautious than Hank ever was, and Hank was the one made of organs and fairly non-replaceable parts.

 

Hank stared at him, watching his totally blank face became even more unsettling once he’d realized everyone else had noticed, too.

 

He was going to ask him after the third lunch they’d spent like that when he realized Connor was starting to become a bit more jumpy after each standby. It was subtle, but it had finally built to the point Hank could see it.

He tried not to pester him about it. Connor seemed aware that he was acting strangely, and Hank had begun to coach himself to calm down. He didn’t want to make things worse, if that were possible, and he didn’t want Connor to feel ashamed.

Aside from looking a bit pained to be seen in public like that and the occasional grimace Connor undoubtedly noticed coming out of standby, Hank kept a lid on it.

It couldn’t just stop there for everyone’s sake, of course, and Connor went and made things weirder.

Now, Hank was forced to say something.

He waited until they got home, though it was a sheer act of GOD he did. 

Connor leaning over him in the passenger seat with his mouth wrapped around his dick, stark still with cum unloading in his throat, was an image so painfully etched into Hank’s brain, he’d almost lost it at the precinct. 

It wouldn’t do for that conversation to be heard over some coffee and case files, so he managed, somehow, to force it into the deepest part of his burdened subconscious- just enough to get him through the rest of the day.

It was the final straw, though, and he’d been left with no choice.

As soon as they were home and greeting Sumo at the door, the floodgates opened.

“Connor. What the *fuck* is going on with you lately?”

The android was surprised to hear anger in his voice. He’d seen the Lieutenant’s vitals were a bit stressed on their way back from their lunch break, but he hadn’t known why. Apparently, it was because of *him*, despite his efforts to give Hank a consolation blow job on the way to the precinct.

“What are you referring to?”

“You! Spacing out every fucking day at the weirdest fucking times!”

Connor’s head tilted. He realized his preconstructions required a bit more from his standby mode than Hank found comfortable. But things were so out of control now. 

Connor couldn’t help it.

“I was thinking.” He said it under the assumption that would actually make Hank feel better. Even if it was the truth, it definitely did not.  
“Like you asked me to.”

“Yeah? Well, i didn’t ask you to do it when you’re fucking *blowing* me!”

But that was the *best* time to think.  
Connor stilled at the thought, then turned away, his a knee jerk reaction to feeling shame. He didn’t mean for it to look like he didn’t care.

That was exactly how Hank took it, unfortunately, and he bristled.

“You know, Connor. This is what I was talking about.”

Though he really shouldn’t have, and he knew that. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt so bitter.

Why he was so pissed off.

“Just like I *said* this would happen, here it is- happening.”

HANK was the one who’d told him to start looking out for himself. Hank’s fucking nagging had put them here.

I told you to figure things out before you got bored. Well, now you’re BORED. You should have done this when I told you to.”

He should have figured this out before Hank was drug in to it. 

He’d done this before. He’d been drug under by his ex. 

Hank was at the brunt of it when his ex hadn’t bothered to think. If she had just been honest with herself, he would have suffered so much less. It would still hurt, but he could move on, albeit brokenly. So could she. Instead she thought it’d be easier to see the other man until there was nothing left of Hank and her marriage. There was no more talking it out and mutual feelings by that point.

He wondered what would have happened if she’d just allow herself a moment to think- to try and find herself after Cole. 

He had a chance now with Connor and he’d adamantly tried to steer him that way.

Instead, whether he meant to or not, Connor was *hurting* him. 

Hank had wanted desperately to avoid this; avoid rejection. Salvage whatever relationship they had when it was just sex and good times.

“I couldn’t keep you interested,” his voice was like nothing Connor had ever heard from him before. 

It broke him.

 

And you just... waited too long to figure it out.”

And now Hank was angry. Now he was yelling at him, and blaming him. He was pissed at himself for being the world’s biggest hypocritical asshole for thinking he could just be fine with Connor leaving him to be happy elsewhere.

And that was still true. He still wanted Connor to be happy.

Why did this have to happen again? He tried so hard to avoid this. Hank had already hurt so much.

“Hank. I don’t understand.” Connor sounded like a child told to stand in the corner, his voice so small.  
“What did I do wrong?”

Hank wished he had a better handle on his roller coaster of emotions tonight, but he didn’t. He was still bleeding from something that wasn’t his fault, but Connor was still in the crossfire.

“CHRIST, Connor! You fell asleep on my dick!”

“I, I thought you came!” He wrung his hands together.  
“I tasted ejaculate!”

“I did come, that’s not the point. You were just... *there*, and you *weren’t*.” Hank recalled the look on his face. Eyes closed, light yellow- so deep in thought he’d had to literally push Connor off to wake him up.

“It’s like some kind of escape for you...”

On the other hand, Hank didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to justify screaming at his partner about cumming in his mouth when he had very much been the one to provide him with the hole.

Subsequently, it was more than just some hole. All the other times were, anyway. Now Connor was just there like a fucking fleshlight. 

And maybe Hank was honestly the stupid one for taking advantage of all the enthusiasm and wild wonder Connor had addressed their sex life with. Before Hank had *changed* him, anyway.

Fuck why was he so angry? He fucking did this.

He threw his hands down on the kitchen counter, not remembering when he’d stormed in here, and hung his head low.

Connor stepped forward carefully. He approached Hank with a timidness in each step he hadn’t seen since Connor’d found him at the table with a gun in his hand. 

Not in months; not since they’d established something ‘more’.

Everything felt so misplaced now, it was like they were back to square one.

Was Hank being unfair? Things always seemed to be *his* fault lately- but was it too much to ask for a blowjob from his boyfriend without him ignoring him?

Was Hank being needy?

“Hank...you’re mad I went into standby while performing oral sex on you.”

He shook his head, and began to wonder where Connor had hid his liquor.

“I only did that because I was thinking.”

Somehow, Connor hadn’t realized that *that* was the very problem.

“Yeah, Con...I *know*.” Hank started looking through the cabinets for his whiskey. Connor, of course, wouldn’t have left it so unattended. Spare bedroom maybe? No, definitely the laundry room. Hank would never go in there.

“And that upset you.”

Good. The megawatt computer with legs was finally catching on. 

“Duh.”

Hank turned around, wishing he could yell at the guy just once without instantly regretting it. Connor’s ring slipped between red and yellow, and he approached Hank looking as beaten as a lost puppy.

Why was Hank always the bad guy?

He scrubbed his eyes.

“I’ll spell it out for you- that was kind of fucking rude.” The understatement of the century.”

Nobody wants their partner going down on them and then getting bored halfway through-“

“I wasn’t bored, Hank! Quite the opposite!”

“Connor...you just admitted to going off to la la land with my dick in your mouth. For all I know you were looking up college applications.”

“College applications?”  
Connor repeated in the most human voice Hank had yet to hear.

“Yeah, or whatever. Schools in the area, finding a better job than this shitty one. I don’t know what the hell it was, but all this shit started after I told you to go find yourself. Whatever it was, was way more boring than a blow job.” Granted it was probably more fun when you were the one getting the blow job, but he knew damn well about Connor’s oral fixation. His statement still stood.

Connor’s face fell into a strange mix of blank and bewildered. His mouth drew a thin line but his eyes were staring at Hank like he’d just been told unicorns were real.

Hank didn’t understand what that face meant. 

Was he wrong?

Connor had only ever started this whole fucking thing at Hank’s request, and his request had been ‘find yourself’. Find your career, your life, your youth. 

Find a house somewhere warmer and travel. Was he a democrat, republican, or other. That kind of shit. The boring shit. The shit that *mattered*. A younger Hank would have called it ‘adulting’.

Connor looked more lost than the first night he’d shown up at Hank’s door with a brand new bucket of sparkling fresh deviancy.

“What?” Hank finally growled. 

This whole thing was getting them nowhere except Connor likely abandoning all his research in favor of pleasing Hank. That was not what he wanted, even if he was pissed it had ruined him getting head and secretly uprooted some lasting pain from his ex-marriage. 

He still wanted Connor to find himself, and Hank was angry he couldn’t properly control how childish he was being.

“Is...that what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“What?” Now Hank looked confused. 

If Connor was asking him that, then what the ever loving fuck had he been doing this whole time? He spent hours in standby several times a day.

“Yes, Connor. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing.”

Silence. 

The other stared at the floor, analyzing the metaphorical space between them. He’d never felt farther from Hank than he did now.

Hank stepped forward, eyes narrowed.

“So what *have* you been doing then?”

Connor jerked. Their eyes locked for a moment before quickly averting. They darted around the kitchen to find something to settle on- though he couldn’t even settle himself. 

He turned around, retreating to the living room.

Hank watched in stunned silence as he took a seat in front of the tv, still wearing his police coat and beanie, and flipped the power button on the remote.

Liquor and anger entirely forgotten, Hank was now enrapt with finding out what the fuck was going on with his partner. What secrets he’d been clearly missing out on.

He pushed around the kitchen table, past Sumo lapping at his water bowl, and stood there between Connor and the tv screen.

The android swallowed for little more reason than a simulated response. Hank noticed his light was still red.

“Connor.” He could see the way Connor desperately willed this conversation away by trying to stare through him. 

Did he think Hank couldn’t elicit a response? That he’d forgotten how to intterogate someone in the last half hour?

“I want to know what you’ve been thinking about.” He started, voice low in that gravelly way that demanded Connor’s attention. 

“Every time you’ve closed your eyes and spaced out on me, I want to know why. It’s been a month.”

 

Connor shrugged. He could lie again to avoid suspicion. His stress levels were a bit too high for it to likely be successful.

Everything was so much more serious now that Hank’s concern to ‘stimulate’ him had a whole new meaning.

Really, he should have understood that in the first place. Hank was a bit more analytical than one would know just from the surface.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, I...” Was it? Connor wasn’t so sure, anymore.

“I knew what I was thinking about, but I...didn’t know I shouldn’t be thinking it.” Did that even make sense?

 

Well, he had his answer to one of those questions, now and, no. He was not supposed to be thinking that. 

Or maybe he was, just in moderation. Maybe it fell under the larger idea of finding himself. Only he knew perfectly well there’d been one thing on his mind Connor had put any effort to explore.

He swallowed again.

He should have known this.

“Connor.” Hank gently pried the remote from his hands and clicked the tv off. He crouched down, forgoing all preservation of his knees, and looked up at him from between his legs. Connor felt like the body on a coroner’s table; picked apart and left open for the world to see. His only audience was Hank, of course, but for him, Hank was the world.

“Tell me.” His voice was softer now. Hank didn’t know if it was because he’d gotten the feeling Connor was scared he’d just screwed everything up, or if he was slowly realizing this was a bigger misunderstanding than he’d known it to be. He’d be right in both regards.

“It’s complicated.” It wasn’t.

“I bet so. You’ve been thinking about whatever it is at freaking crime scenes, for crying out loud.”

The android paled.  
“I haven’t been thinking about it *that* much.”

“Only in the car, at your desk, in the bed, at the table, at lunch, in the park, on the sidewalk, when you blow me.”

The list could go on another 30 seconds if Hank had wanted it to.

Connor looked more perturbed by this information than Hank thought he might. Was his clock not registering times anymore?

“What’s got you so worked up, Con? All this time you’ve been so distracted, what was it, huh?” 

So worked up?

So distracted?

Hank didn’t know the HALF of it.

Finally, he saw something he hadn’t since their third time in the sheets. Connor blushing. It was subtle, a pastel color only noticeable in direct light. Perhaps leaving the lights on during their third time was the best idea he’d ever had. 

“I don’t know.” Connor said again, but it sounded different.  
“I need to do more research.”

Was that an appropriate outlet from this conversation?

Hank tried not to let the strange anxiousness filling the lines on Connor’s face bother him. They made him want to dig deeper, but that wouldn’t get him anywhere. Connor would come to him when he was ready, when he knew what was happening, and he’d just have to trust he was taking care of himself until then.

This wasn’t going anywhere, but Hank wouldn’t soon forget.

Eventually, the distant staring and random standbys seemed to simmer out as Connor was starting to do a lot less thinking it appeared. He’d either found whatever answers he was looking for, or he’d finally been pushed to his limits.

After their last talk, that wasn’t so unlikely.

Hank was patient- he forced himself to be.

He didn’t bring it up again, and he didn’t complain when Connor went into standby after sex every now and then. Though he was *sure* to wait until Hank had finished. The strange thing was, that was the only time he did it anymore.

Otherwise, he kept himself away from the whole ordeal as much as possible. That wasn’t too difficult. Connor could shut off certain emotions to an extent, and he could function at work well enough. 

All the weirdness had finally stopped affecting their home life, too, but now Hank was facing a far worse problem.

Now....Connor was unhappy.

Hank hadn’t known what a miserable Connor looked like until it was staring him in the face. He’d been an idiot to think this is what Connor felt like before. He’d never been so unsettled in his own house, and Hank got the feeling Connor was living like he was only ‘going through the motions’. He’d been down that road before for years, and years- Practically a life time before Cole was born.

Then again after the accident until Connor’d come along.

He was only living now because Connor was here.

 

Maybe it wasn’t this crazy disproportioned thing to think Connor felt tha way now.

He’d only known a life with Hank Anderson, but he was so alive. He was more human than anyone Hank had ever known, and it was like it was all gone.

 

Had he done this to him?

He couldn’t help feeling like he had. Far too often he noticed the sad slope of shoulders while his partner cooked him dinner every night. How the glint in his eyes became dim, and a neurotic side of Connor he’d never known before became increasingly more apparent.

Hank was now convinced Connor’d become emotionally distant as a way to avoid being alone with his thoughts. Whatever thing had creeped into his mind, he’d spent drowning in for weeks and was now lethally attached.

Only it was so much more a part of Connor than Hank could even know.

Despite his efforts to keep some normalcy, Connor struggled *constantly*. The parts of his brain that wouldn’t let go were on grade 9 lock down and clawing relentlessly to be free.

It was all a matter of endurance. Maybe before Connor could have said something, thrown his deprived little thoughts out into the ring to be analyzed and dismissed the moment they’d realized there was a misunderstanding. Now, that time had passed- ‘misunderstanding’ had morphed into living in delusion.

There was only so far you could stray from the meaning of something and then mull in it everyday like an addict before you deserved to have your relationship privileges revoked. Especially when it had affected your partner the way he’d done to Hank. Worse yet was that now he knew he’d done it for nothing.

For every hard kiss in bed, for every time Hank’s voice got too rough during an interrogation, Connor wanted to throw himself into his fantasies. What he’d previously thought was what Hank had wanted, too.

That was so far fetched in retrospect. Hank had never made sex the subject of anything. It didn’t control their relationship, much less did his life revolve around it- in a way Connor had done all that. He hadn’t known he had a problem like that until they were stuck here and it was staring him in the face.

Of course Hank had meant it to be deeper, whoch made so much more sense, considering how adamant he’d been about Connor’s finding. Why would sex be so high on the list that he’d literally start a fight about it?

He wouldn’t.

The good news was Connor actually *had* discovered some of those certifiable soul-searching answers in all this.

Like that he had a *LOT* of hangups.

A part of him was desperate to stick to with protocols in his hard drive- the ones that kept sex vanilla. Well, there were a few reasons for that. 

Connor didn’t *like* his personal preferences. He watched porn a few times to judge how well they might be perceived by a somewhat general audience. 

Connor wasn’t normal.

What he liked wasn’t normal.

Hank, being a pretty normal guy, would not like this side of him, at all.

Connor sure didn’t.

But now he’d gone and he’d....entertained the idea a bit.

It spiraled massively out of control, as was evident, until it was eating a hole in him, inside and out. It changed him until it was affecting every part of his life and the people around him. Hank, most of all.

Connor had to escape. He’d come so close to saying those things so many times that he become dependent on his standby. He NEEDED IT.

Hank made him weak.

The kisses, the roughness, the force. How many recordings did he have of Hank handling a round little bullet shell with such a precision as he loaded his gun- only to thrust some criminal onto his knees and in cuffs. He could be so gentle, so aligned, but then coupled with this brute-ness...

This burden wasn’t a normal one, not was it healthy, and Connor didn’t know how something about sex had turned out to be one of the most defining struggles of his personhood. Why couldn’t it have been about careers or politics?

He sheltered this obsession as best he could, too far down the proverbial rabbit hole to release it back into the world, despite Hank’s questioning.

To be so troubled about such a thing was humiliating. Hank was expecting some existential crisis and here Connor was stroking out about....um....well....

Anyway-

He got slightly better about containing it. It took some work, but he was mostly back to normal after giving himself a little wake up call.

He still made mistakes. He often caught himself staring at Hank’s hands for far too long. He knew he was playing with fire when Ben had caught him once during one of the many hours he spent staring while at work. Although the wasted time was more like an accumulation as he forced himself to work between each case and his near constant staring. He set a timer to make sure he was balancing them. At least he could say that much for himself.

He stared for the whole hour they were on their lunch break. Watching how Hank’s thick digits, held things. Moved things. Touched things. It was better than sharing a lunch break in standby he guessed.

Connor disabled his stasis mode about a week ago, a somewhat acceptable method of coping until Hank was in waking hours. He could lie there the entire night, just touching and feeling over his hand. It would be weird if Hank had seen the way he stared at them, judging their texture. Their size. Their weight.

This onsession, it’d eaten away a of good chunk of Connor’s sensibility, and soon, his happiness. 

Now, Connor knew a bit more about himself than he wished he’d ever had to. It was impossible to go back to how things were. He couldn’t anymore- his brain wouldn’t shut out the things of Hank that were so intoxicating.

He sought after one thing every day, more and more, to the point of exhaustion. And yet, it was so unreachable. Connor was stuck forever in limbo where he’d stay until he could get those big hands on his—

“Hey, Con.” Hank’s teeth grazed along his throat. 

He had a flash reboot, something like a page refresher, and brought his attention back to where he was. In Hank’s lap.

“We don’t have to do it tonight, yeah?”

Connor shifted.

No, they definitely had to. Connor needed this.

When they skipped sex for any reason now, Connor became emotional. Desperate to fill the void, to put his findings in the back of his mind through the blunt force of hips snapping together.

Which, ironically, was also what he was trying to avoid.

“‘S fine, Lieutenant. I’m fully operational and ready to engage. I just need to clear a few things from my ‘inbox’, so to speak.”

“I told you, Con. It’s Hank in the bedroom.”

He stilled, flushing.  
“R-Right.”

Hank didn’t seem bothered by it and just rubbed at his hip, brows furrowed.

Connor was having trouble meeting his gaze.

“You still got some blood flowin’ down there, right?” Hank hoped that was more amusing and less assholish.

Connor nodded. His eyes fixed on Hank’s chest in his hands. His slender fingers sprawled over the expanse of skin, marveling at how *much* there was.

“Good. That’s where it should be.” He pat his hip and heat pooled lower.

“Don’t go overthinking anything, tonight.”

Connor looked a little alarmed at that.  
“Why not?”

He regretted it instantly, realizing how obvious the answer to that would be. They were about to have *sex*.

Luckily, Hank took it in stride.

“Well...’cause you won’t enjoy it when I do this.”

He moved higher to suck at the pulse below Connor’s jaw. He let his neck stretch out on a display, granting him all the space he needed. Thighs jerking pathetically around Hank’s hips.

Hank’s beard and the scratch of it- those teeth bearing down. Large hands that could hold him down by his entire throat reached around his body and held him just so. 

Connor wasn’t wet yet, thanks to his all encompassing mental trauma fests he now had on a regular basis. It kept him out of the moment frequently.

It wouldn’t take much more of this kissing to get him there, though.

“Or.” Hank licked a stripe behind the curve of Connor’s ear. He shivered, hands kneading at Hank’s chest to ground him.

“This.”

With no other warning, he rocked his hips up, forcing his cock to grind against Connor’s hole.. The weight settled through the fabric of Hank’s very tented boxers, and rubbed pleasingly over the button of nerves in Connor’s clit.

He spasmed, desperate to get his legs seated around some part of Hank’s large frame. The thicker man chuckled watching the display.

He was always pleased he could do anything to get a rise out of Connor. The perfect, hand crafted machine that should in theory be unfazed by him. Yet he bowed each time under Hank’s careful touches.

His hands ran over Connor’s sides, tough in texture, but tentative. He mapped the spaces out between each artificial rib and ran his thumbs low against the hidden seams of Connor’s hips.

He hadn’t seen much of him without his skin, but Hank remembered where some of the lines were. It was the tiniest bit smoother over the divots of synthetic skin.

The android moaned appreciatively. Despite his probably atrocious bedroom behavior being so spacey, Hank was rubbing over some of his most favorite spots. The growls rumbling out against his ear were dizzying.

“Yeah...feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y-yes.”

Thick fingers, fingers Connor’d been lusting over for every second they were in close contact palmed lower. Lower. The inside of his thighs were soon gripped and kneaded, a thumb on each side so close to the gaping hole at their center. It was frustrating. 

They were so close. 

Hank’s fingers were so close, and his hole was so warm now.

“You want more...don’t you?”

“YES.”

He massaged Connor’s skin. The tips of his fingers traveled up to brush at his flushed, puffy lips. They were so full of blue blood, aching to be touched harder. For Hank to stop his teasing and cup them.

“If you want more, you’re gonna have to beg for it.” 

Connor’s breath hitched.

Hank was trying something new. They hadn’t incorporated any really dirty talk in their sex life. A lot of it was just ‘oh yeah’s and ‘so good’s in a nice old fashioned round of hot sex. Connor had always seemed more than a little lost in indulging Hank’s dirty language, and Hank had somewhat avoided it by doing lots of extra kissing to spare Connor the embarrassment again.

Hank was hoping to bring him out of whatever was troubling him tonight. He could take a guess what that something was as the same problem had been ongoing for almost two months now. He still hadn’t told Hank what it was, even though he was sure Connor’d figure it out some time ago.

All of that aside, he just wanted Connor to feel tonight- no thinking. No worrying.

Those large fingers caught the folds of his lips, pushing them aside, and stroked. The soft, plumped skin was so pliant. He reveled in how easily they opened for him. 

Connor shivered, his hands kneading harder.

A glittery string of precum seeping from his hole was the literal icing on the cake of a very perfect picture. Connor was an absolute masterpiece.

“Beg.” Hank murmured, face inches from Connor’s ear again. 

This was getting dangerous. Whatever the change in Hank’s approach was for, Connor was becoming nervous.

“I-I... I want it.”

Hank nipped his ear.

“A little more than that, honey.”

Connor gasped. Hank’s thumb swiped at the string between his lips, and admired the way it stuck to him in a thick bead. He looked back up to see those starry, brown eyes and grinned. It wasn’t meant to be menacing.

He moved his thumb back to the base of Connor’s hole and tucked the cum back inside with little, shallow circles around the entrance.

“Beg.” He commanded, as if Connor was a dog. It produced a wonderful response.

His hips jerked forward, looking for something to fill him besides the first inch of Hank’s thumb. There was nothing, though. Not until he begged.

“Lieutenant!”

“Hank.”

“Ha-Hank!” Connor struggled to control himself. This could all go south so fast.

“I! I want it!”

“Yeah? You want it pretty bad, huh?”

“Please, yes- Ahh~”

“C’mon, darlin’” He wanted to hear him say it just a little more.

His fingers slipped down to clasp over the bottom of Connor’s taint, holding the base of his pussy while his thumb sunk in a little deeper. The fingers felt around, occasionally brushing against the other hole slowly opening for him.

“Say it, again.”

“PLEASE~” His pump beat faster. He was so close, it would be so easy to give in. It felt almost right to.

“Again. *Tell* me what you want.”

What if he went into standby? He’d been doing so well for so long, now- why was the urge coming back?

Hank sunk his teeth into the shell of his ear. 

He nipped and sucked, determined to draw out more of those pleas. He wanted that ridiculously overworked brain to remember nothing but the pleasure and how he begged for it.

Nothing but Hank on him, holding him, opening him.

“Baby...”

Connor yelped- a new sound to add to his slowly growing list of sex sounds. Hank liked this one, he liked it *a lot*. It was high and breathy.

“I can’t-I want it! I-I don’t know!” He couldn’t think of what to say. What did Hank want out of him? His voice had nearly closed up.

“I want you, Hank.”

He was at his limit.

The hand that’d been rubbing tentatively over each rib came down to spread Connor’s legs at the knee. With that, it reared back and came swiftly down over the inside of Connor’s thigh, not far from where his other had was cupping and fingering him, in a loud, sharp *smack*

“Louder!”

“Daddy, PLEASE!~”

Connor who had all but melted into Hank’s front, pushed away from him like he’d been burnt. His eyes looked wild and his fingers dug angry crescents in the skin of Hank’s shoulders.

That was all the warning he got as he watched Connor ride out his miracle orgasm.

He crumpled against him, screaming. The thumb up his pussy lavished in flush of Connor’s essence; a slightly blue, abundant wetness. It made a terrible mess every time, but Hank had learned to love the stuff. Especially since Connor did the laundry.

He clung to Hank like his only life-preserve in a sea of pleasure; thighs frantically attempting to close over Hank’s hips and ease the aching there.

Something had noticeably improved in Connor’s bedroom talk as the slurs and screams falling from his mouth were of the dirtiest words Hank had ever heard of him. Hank could barely process them.

One word stood out above the rest. Something in Hank’s gut twisted.

It wasn’t until the shaking had stilled and the moans, burning vivdly in his brain, did Hank gently pull his hands away. He moved them to Connor’s hips, keeping the trembling man steady on his lap.

He held Connor close to his chest, stroking the base of his now flushed blue neck. He waited patiently for Connor to come around again, but he never did. His breathing had stabilized, giving Hank the idea that Connor had chosen to stay buried.

He didn’t make him move, even as he begun to speak. As much as Hank was struggling to stay afloat in a sea of feelings, Connor was considerably more trapped in this situation. 

Hank still needed answers.

“Con.” He rubbed his fingers over the length of his neck, tracing the square where his input port lay hidden.

He didn’t know how to proceed beyond that.

“How was I supposed to tell you about that.” Came Connor’s muffled voice. He pulled his face away but hung his head low.

“I don’t know where to start.” Hank knew honesty was the only approach here. 

Still, Connor tensed.

“What was.....was that what you’ve been thinking about?....All this time?”

Slender shoulders made a jerk like a shrug.

“I don’t know.” At this point, Hank wondered if Connor actually believed that or not.

“It’s just...” He pulled his face away to look at him, and Hank had to struggle to keep from grabbing it.

“I’ve been imagining these things...at the most inconvenient times... like...”

“The blowjob?” 

Connor hated that they had a negative connection with blow jobs now. He hated that with a passion. What if it prevented future blowings?

“That...was one time.” He said carefully.

Hank’s hands couldn’t keep still any longer- traveling up to rest on his collar. They feathered over the assortment of freckles that dot the false muscles of his throat.

“So...the other times... I’m guessing all the times you went into sleep mode on me?”

“Standby, I wasn’t actually asleep. But yes.” He leaned into the touch. He wanted to be as close as he could to Hank’s good graces. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d have them after this.

At first, it was just some thinking. I thought about us, about how happy I am we’re together.” The slight tremble in his voice was almost reverent.

Hank felt a spark of warmth in his chest.

“I didn’t really do much else than that. I still thought it was unnecessary to, despite the fact I’d made you a promise. Obviously, I was wrong. There’s been this darkness in me this whole time I didn’t know about..... and I never would have if you hadn’t asked me to go looking. I almost dragged you down again....”

He didn’t dare interrupt. He wanted to hear everything Connor had to say, trying to not to focus on the thrum of warmth spreading downward.

“Once it was in my head, I couldn’t get it out. It affected me at the *worst* times, Hank. I was imagining all these...scenarios. I hated it, but the littlest thing you did would set me off.”

Hank watched the flush on his ears burn towards the bridge of his nose. Blue pricked the surface of his skin until it became a noticeably darker color, one Hank had *never* seen before.

“I finally figured out how to manage it, but by then I’d already ruined your trust in me.”

“No, that never happened, Connor.” Hank reached down and pulled the android back into his arms. He rest his chin on the dip of Connor’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry about that fight we had. It was a while ago, but I never apologized.....I just didn’t know what was going on.”

He pet Connor’s neck, the other stiff as he held tight.

“I didn’t know this is what you were dealing with.”

“Are you surprised?” His voice broke. He replayed his orgasm over again and cringed violently at the exact moment he’d shouted the ‘D’ word.

“Connor I’m more than fucking surprised.” Honestly, nothing would have prepared Hank for *THAT*. Nothing.

‘Was it bad’, was the question...

He’d heard his share of it from partners before him, but somehow it was so much more intense coming from Connor. It was like a commitment in some form that Hank couldn’t explain. Maybe because he didn’t know how far this thing went for Connor, or maybe because this was the first real relationship he’d had since his wife.

He wasn’t a decorated police Lieutenant because he liked to knit- he could easily find out how deep this thing was on Connor’s end.

But it might not be the worst thing to do it without words. It may actually produce the most honest response if he didn’t. 

Somewhere along the way, he could figure out how he felt about it, too. 

If he wasn’t careful, what he was about to do was going to be *real* weird, *real* fast, and it could easily go to hell.

“Can I try something?” Hank was a bit scared to proceed without a clear indication of where Connor sat on all this, but he figured the worst he could do was tell him to stop.

Connor tried not to struggle against his newly developed intuition. It was strictly a human feature he’d acquired, and as an android, he did not favor relying on something formed entirely on a ‘hunch’. Speculation would lead to disaster.

Hank seemed to be thinking the same thing as he nervously moved to his feet, helping Connor off him. He shuffled the bed around until he’d made a space at the edge that wasn’t crowded with pillows and tangled sheets. He took a seat and spread his legs out a bit.

Connor was going to feel entirely out of place until he’d had a good read on what Hank was thinking.

He remembered all the constructions he’d made about Hank reacting in disgust, revolted at the mention of the fraternal term. He’d been a parent, how likely it was he’d accept the title again in the bedroom felt like an 86% failure.

Yet he hadn’t responded like those preconstructions, so far, and Connor wasn’t sure if he was in the clear. He made a note not to rely on his preconstructions without the facts next time. They weren’t designed for accuracy off speculation.

Honestly, if Hank just wanted to forget this whole thing ever happened, he would do so in half a heartbeat. Connor had been trying to forget about it for the better part of two months now.

Their eyes locked as Hank caught the fleeting look of terror on Connor’s face. Even with his face flushed and heart thudding in his ears, Hank knew the scales were tipped in his favor.

It wasn’t an ideal coming out, and Hank felt like he was walking thin ice here- but he wasn’t nearly as rattled about the whole thing as his partner seemed to be.

He wasn’t keen on getting this wrong all the same. Like he said, things could get weird.

He pat his knee, signaling for Connor to get on.

He came close, moving in baby steps, and swung a leg over Hank’s thighs. Large hands came out and grabbed his naked hips, stopping him from sitting.

The android held his shoulders to steady himself, looking more confused than anything.

“Not like that.” He backed him up from his lap until he was stood straight- then pulled him down.

Connor lost his footing and settled right over Hank’s lap, bent onto his stomach. He stared ahead trying to process the changes. When it fit together, he moved to sit on his elbows and attempted to look back at him.

 

Connor suddenly spasmed, mouth falling open, when a hand gently cupped his cheek.

“I think I know what you like.” Hank suddenly sounded a hundred times more confident than he actually was. There was only one way to be sure about any of this, and he wasn’t about to turn back now. Not with the blood slowly filling the prize inside boxers again.

Thankfully, he’d done a little bit of this kind of thing before. That’d be enough to get them to a good rhythm.

Hank reached out and kneaded the flesh of his ass, cupping and squeezing. His fingers slipped lower to grip the back of Connor’s thighs. He worked his hands over each cheek, up and down, sliding too far ‘in’ to brush a knuckle against his cunt.

Connor jerked, but gave no indication for Hank to stop.

He was keeping vilgilant, eyes glued to the subtle rise and fall of Connor’s shoulders. He put a hand on the small of his back, over a particularly faint freckle, and gently drew his other hand from between those legs.

Deep breath.

He brought his hand back, aimed, and gave a curt little pat over the taut flesh.

Connor jumped, lips parting.

It could have been surprise, so Hank tried it again to make sure- same strength.

He steadied, aimed, slapped.

Connor responded the same, other than the little ‘o’ his mouth was now forming.

Hank’s hand settled across his ass, rubbing at his equivalent of a ‘tailbone’. Connor reared back into his hand where it was warm and steady. That was all the evidence he needed to give Hank his confidence back.

A grin split his lips and all at once, thoughts of Connor walking around the city playing fantasies of getting spanked began to fill his head.

How many times had they been in the*most* inappropriate places while Connor was barely keeping up on shaky legs, visions of being paddled mudding his brain?

In the break room, in Fowler’s office, after the blowjob.

JESUS, he wanted Hank to *spank* *him*.

“Do you know how bad you’ve been?”

The question caught him off guard, but Connor attempted to indulge him by tilting his head towards him.

No, he had no idea whether he’d been bad or not, and that was half his problem. It was the reason that after they’d discovered their misunderstanding he still couldn’t tell Hank what he’d been thinking about.

“You’ve been *very* bad.”

He flinched. He didn’t want to be ‘bad’. He didn’t want to be anything the Lieutenant didn’t want him to be. 

His tongue felt thick.

“I’m sorr-“

Hank’s hand came down across the swell of his ass. 

Connor yelped, arching away from the sting. He startled himself with the noise, hand coming up to clutch his throat.

“You’re sorry, huh?”

Connor nodded, afraid to let his voice speak for him.

Reasonably so, as another swift strike against his other cheek dislodged something in his audio component. He moaned, pure static.

“I’ve got some bad news for you, baby.” Hank groped below the curve of his ass, prodding the tips of his fingers against the slick gathered between his legs.

“Sorry isn’t good enough. I’m gonna have to punish you.”

Something twisted viscously in Connor’s ‘gut’. Something like excitement and shame. It was a strange mix, but he couldn’t help feeling them at the prospect of Hank ‘setting him straight’.

Without warning, Hank picked Connor up and positioned him on hands and knees on the bed. His cunny clenched on nothing, excited by the display of raw strength. Or maybe Connor was just embarrassingly smitten at this point.

Hank was behind him, spreading his legs a bit further and poking at his hole.

Connor moaned, ass pushing backwards while Hank checked his lubricant. His cunny was still slicker than oil and his hole open for business.

Happy with his findings, Hank pulled away and listened in rapture as his lover mewled at the loss. He wanted Hank. He needed Hank. How could he ever think Connor’d list interest? 

He stroked himself to be sure he was sturdy enough to get in on the first try. Then he smacked Connor’s ass. HARD.

Connor screamed, turning to look over his shoulder with wide, frantic eyes.

“This is your punishment, sweetheart.” Hank said coldly.  
“You’ll take what I give you.”

One thrust forward and his hips were flush with Connor’s ass. The android scrambled against the sheets, hips stuttering. He struggled dearly to keep from falling under the weight of Hank’s cock inside him, stretching it full, and rubbing all the walls in his tight, little channel.

He’d only just gotten some of the shake out of his legs when Hank’s massive hand swiped over the top of his ass, almost bruisingly. The sting hurt, but the way it made his cunt clutch and grip at the girth inside him had Connor’s eyes rolling up.

It wasn’t exactly the pain Connor craved, and the emotional attachment in this embarrassmed him.

Hank was so happy he’d been convinced to get that mirror put in above the dresser. Even better, it was of his own doing and for this very reason. Considering the countless times he’d caught Connor preening in the mirror, he knew it would only attribute to the hottest sex of their lives.

A moan brought Hank’s eyes down to those lips moving in the mirror, trying to catch a breath they didn’t need.

Connor buckled so beautifully. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, pulling the skin. 

The fight to keep on his hands was getting too much. He just wanted to give in, throw his ass up high, and let Hank have his way with him. Meanwhile, Hank struggled not to unload an unholy brigade of smacks on Connor’s pert, little ass. It looked like it was begging for that exactly.

“Look at you take it. You know you’ve been bad, don’t you?”

Connor had to have known. He’d been so distant in bed; so irresponsible at work. 

Only Hank could fix him. Only Hank could help Connor’s mess.

-SMACK- right over his reddening cheeks.

Connor bucked.

Another -SMACK- and, finally, Hank was moving.

Connor panicked, trying to look over his shoulder. His arms were shaking, his stomach tightening. That huge weight between his legs was pulling and pushing against every nerve ending. His cunt desperately clenched and grabbed to keep Hank inside him, but his cock did not comply.

He dragged his cock out, the sensors in Connor’s silicone pussy pulled with it. Then Hank was thrusting in much faster. The sensors moved with each stroke, too full to remain stationary as they were trapped. Trapped around the throbbing length prodding at them. Pulling, pushing, pulling.

-SMACK-

“OH~ O-OH!”

Hank had heard his share of Connor’s sex voice by now, but whatever this was, was utterly debauched sounding. 

It was a total head rush, and he quickly found himself getting a bit too cozy in his role in all this.

“Bad boys get spankings, Connor. They get spanked and fucked until they’ve learned their lesson.”

Connor was shaking literally everywhere.

“You want to be a good boy don’t you?”

“Yes!” 

-SMACK-

“~YES~”

-SMACK- 

-SMACK-

Harder and harder.

Connor was panting like a dog in heat, voice hoarse. He couldn’t stay upright any longer, and he fell face forward with his ass presented high as it could go. 

His cheek buried into the mattress, fisting the blanket and shutting his eyes into its softness. The warmth encompassed him.

Connor focused on the way his entire body moved with Hank’s thrusts. The bigger man pinned him there by the sheer will of his dick. His hand delivering sharp blow after blow on his tender cheeks.

He was bad. Connor was so bad, before.

Thank GOD Hank was here to set him straight- to punish him. To make him his good boy~

“Daddy~” 

He could be good now. He was going to be good for *him*... for Hank.

For-

“DADDY!”

Hank hadn’t noticed when his thrusts had gotten deeper. His balls at the hilt of Connor’s cunt, slapping softly at his clit.

“That’s right.” He growled. Hoping that was encouragement enough for Connor to fall into utter sin with him.

“~Lieutenant Anderson~ I’m- OOOH! OH, THEEERE!”

Hank bucked forward, too hard for a human.

But Connor could take it.  
His pussy was stuffed up with his Daddy’s cock, pinning him to their shared nest.

Hank spanked his cheeks twice, then again, then again.

Connor screamed, sinking further into the mattress from Hank’s weight until there was the squeak of springs. His ass pushed back as much as it would go, and Hank kept it filled for him.

Cream and honey slipped around every inch of Hank’s crotch, and decorated the backs of Connor’s thighs.

Hank spanked him a fifth time, then a sixth. A seventh, an eighth, a ninth. 

Connor’s cheeks were officially blue, just like the ones on his face. Some of the lighter freckles he had down there had blended into the dark flush of skin.

Hank’s hips snapped forward just as Connor’s had found the strength to come back. The sounds of each spanking weren't the only slaps filling the room.

The artificial cum stuck to their thighs in thin, wet webs as Connor couldn’t stop the production line.

His screams were bordering wounded now.

Hank reached down and brought Connor’s wrists together behind his back. He pinned them in one massive paw and held them taut. His face was forced into the mattress without his arms to balance him. His blush was burning, feeling like a hogtied pig for roasting. He turned his face into the sheets.

-SMACK-

Oh fuck. He couldn’t do this.

His body trembled against the pressure.

He was babbling *absolute* nonsense.

“You’ve been so good for me, honey.” Hank crushed his hips to his Connor’s backside.

Connor thought he would see GOD if eyes could quit rolling.

“You’re such a good boy. I’m so proud of you.”

-SMACK-

“Lieutenant! -Daddy!”

“That’s it baby, I’m right here. You’ve been so good.”

“~PLEASE, DADDY~“

“Come for me, baby.” Hank switched his speed in favor of blunt force. The swell of his ass bounced against his hips.

“Come for me.”

“AHH! DADDY! DADDY!”

Hank was seeing stars. Connor’s cunt clutched around his hard length in an impossibly reverent manner- praising it. Pampering it. Thanking it for tearing apart his insides.

As Connor babbled out pleas and cries in Hank’s new title, the bigger man wasn’t sure whether the smaller knew he was cumming. The flush of liquid that came gushing out of him could only mean one thing- Connor’s explosive orgasm.

But if he was going to keep screaming- Hank was going to keep fucking.

His poor cheeks were so blue by the point. Hank was eager to start with aftercare. He sped up again, desperate to join him at the finish line.

He slapped, and smacked, and spanked over every part of Connor’s sore, little ass. His cock pumped deep a few more times before he filling Connor up with liquid fire and flushing out the rest of Connor’s ejaculate to mix with his on the bedspread. 

Cum was everywhere, as were Connor’s screams. They broke and rose and fell in octaves Hank had never heard before. He screamed them so much more prettily than Hank had heard anyone before him. Connor chanted ‘Daddy’ in between each moan like a pitiful prayer. 

To Hank’s surprise, and the vicious twisting low his belly, Connor came again when Hank had just about slid out. The flared head of his cock caught on something ethereal in Connor’s walls, and the android writhed as Hank scrounged up his waning strength to stroke him through it. Petting at the sore skin of his ass while his partner shook helplessly. 

He let Connor’s arms go, and they fell like weights. The rest of him joined his arms lifelessly on the bed the moment Hank’s dick had fully withdrawn.

If Connor had needed to actually breathe, he’d be dead by now.

“Shhh.” Hank rushed over to his side, determined to quell the pulsing sting in his cheeks. Connor gave no indication if he was even conscious anymore.

“I’ll be right back.” Hank whispered.

He returned in seconds with a cold cloth for his abused flesh.

Connor was barely able to speak through each labored breath being pulled from his chest. His fans had cooled down most of the excess heat in his chassis and it wasn’t necessary to keep them running any longer.

“No need, Lieutenant....Hank... my self healing-”

“Shhh.” Hank moved the cool terry cloth over his skin.

Connor couldn’t even begin to fight him, overcome with a cacophony of emotions. Instead, he purred into the plush rubbing soothingly against his ass. 

“Baby....You did so good, sweetheart. Let me make it better.” 

Connor groaned miserably when his cunny clenched around nothing. He couldn’t help the reaction anymore than he could help his tirade of a Daddy kink for the last couple months.

“See,”Hank murmured softly.

“You need it.”

Truly, he had *no* idea. 

Connor turned his thighs out to cool the fire in his sex component. He reveled in the smooth touches he received. They were so tentative and affectionate. Hank was all around him, keeping him safe; dispelling all his fears.

He hadn’t been too outright to think Hank would be wary of his obsession. It still wasn’t anything normal. But he clearly hadn’t been giving credit where credit was due in this relationship.

This must be exactly what Hank had been so worried about with Connor......

“So.” Hank threw the cloth somewhere on the floor and shuffled up to the android’s side.

He lifted his face from the sheets to stare adoringly into the steely blue eyes looking down at him- watching over him.

“A Daddy Kink, huh?”

Connor’s smile dropped instantly. Hank’s grew wider.

“Yes...I suppose that’s the more common name it’s been coined.”

“Oh, it definitely is, sweet cheeks.”

“Don’t.”

“I just can’t believe how tight it’s got you wound up.” He pat Connor’s ass more affectionately than should be possible. The sting and blue flush had long since vanished. 

“I would have never thought *YOU*, I mean....You were really going crazy for it.”

“I think I’m just ‘crazy’ for you.”

“Ya think?”

“If you were my size or theoretical age, than I would just have a twink fetish.”

Well, if that didn’t give away the premise of Connor’s search history...

Hank had to laugh, face flushing. The idea that Connor was morphing his sexual preferences around Hank’s being just meant they were still at square one. 

Clearly Connor hadn’t learned anything about himself when he went looking- unless that something was ‘Hank Anderson was just his sole reason for living’. Obviously that could never be true (despite the evidence), and Hank was getting really tired of having his argument with him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” He said in that whiny voice that made Connor bristle. It was like an invitation to argue.

“I told you, I’m an adult Hank. I’ll be just fine making my own decisions.” He turned onto his back, head lulling towards Hank’s chest. He smelled like timber and sandalwood.

If he deactivated right now, Connor would die happy. The weight that’d been crushing his conscious was lifted, replaced by the comforting weight of his lover at his side.

“Mmm, no.” Hank rumbled. “I think Daddy should start making the rules.”

Connor’s eyes snapped open.

“You get away with being a brat FAR too often, you know.”

Hank leaned down and trapped their lips together before Connor got a word out.

It wouldn’t do for his little to start acting up before he’d gotten all that ache out of his used hole. Hank would just have to keep him in line.

**Author's Note:**

> Glad you made it


End file.
